


Sherlock's Birthday

by im_the_hero



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cute, Hand Jobs, Happy Birthday Sherlock, M/M, Sherlock is smooth as fuck, kinda smutty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-06 11:57:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3133592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/im_the_hero/pseuds/im_the_hero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock's been nervous about the 'Having Sex' part of his and John's relationship. But he feels, after months of mental preparation, he's ready.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlock's Birthday

Really, John was getting sick of Sherlock tip toeing around him. John felt like if he even looked at Sherlock, the man would scamper away shouting something only he could make sense of. At the same time though, it was incredibly endearing. John would get within a certain distance (eight-teen centimeters, John would guess) and Sherlock would tense, cheeks turn an adorable pink, and look at his shoes as though they held the answers to the world. He figured if it was important, Sherlock would say something. John tried not to worry.

Greg was distracting Sherlock with a case while John and Mrs. Hudson get things around for a little party. Molly and Anthea had a date tonight (their first official) and John refused to invite Sherlock's parents. He was not ready to meet homophobic daddy and 'as long as you're happy and he's so cute' mum. No, John was not, nor would he probably ever be, ready for that. 

"How much longer do you think they'll be?" Mrs. Hudson asked, taking the cover off the cake Anthea had sent over.

"Haven't a clue." John sighed. He was sweating, having swept, mopped, dusted, and put things away. He was very much in need of a shower.

"John, dear, you've got cob webs in your hair!" Mrs. Hudson said in her motherly tone that sometimes grated on John's nerves. "You go clean up, shouldn't be long now. You should put n that nice sweater Sherlock got you for Christmas! It would look very nice with those khaki pants you wore a few weeks ago!"

John thought a moment. He shrugged, thanked Mrs. Hudson, and went towards Sherlock's room, they now shared. He grabbed the jumper. It was the same as his old one, black and white horizontal stripes. Sherlock had accidentally ruined the first one, using it in a haste to sop up some mystery solution. John, begrudgingly, washed and cut the jumper, making it into rags. John thought back, walking into the kitchen seeing Sherlock in a mess. The knees of his pants stained blue, John's jumper green and orange. Sherlock looke so upset, for the mess, the smell, and using John's favorite article of clothing as a towel. John was mad for all of thirty seconds before kissing Sherlock's forehead, saying: "It's only a shirt. I can always get another."

John grabbed his favorite jeans and the jumper and made towards the shower. Ten minuets later, John walked out scrubbing his head with the towel. Mrs. Hudson and Mycroft were already waiting, chatting avidly about something John had no opinion on.

*Not our division* John's phone chimed, telling him Greg messaged.

*Leaving the Yard now. Ready?-GL*

^As I'll ever be.- JW^

*Good. I'm ready to be rid of him. Piss poor mood he's been in all day.-GL*

John barked out a laugh. Sherlock knows what he's up to.

^Knows does he?-JW^

*Gee, I wonder how he figured it out.-GL*

John could hear the sarcasm. He just closed his messages.

About ten minuets later, John could hear Sherlock throwing a fit at the bottom of the stairs. Greg's retort to what the youngest Holmes was: "Quit being a whiney arsed bitch and climb the stairs!"

Moments later, an angry, red faced Sherlock walked through the door. John could see why his boyfriend was in a piss poor mood. The sleeve of his coat was ripped, a button missing (time to drag out the sewing things), his scarf, during an apparent chase, is now lost in London, and he was sporting a nice bruise on his cheek.

"I thought the case was a five." John said, guiding his love to the kitchen.

"I seemed to have miscalculated." Sherlock said in a tone John hardly caught. "Don't tell that lot. I'll never hear the end of it if they heard."

John kissed Sherlock's bruised cheek gently. "I heard nothing. Let's get some ice on that."

Sherlock slipped his arms out of his coat. The rest of him, though hap hazardous looking, seemed uninjured. He kissed Sherlock's cheek and pressed the ice pack wrapped in rags to his cheek.

"Happy birthday Sherlock!" Mrs. Hudson exclaimed, pressing her hand to his not bruised cheek. "You really do work too hard!" Greg snorted. "You ought to find a safer occupation! Something not so dangerous!"

"Now Mrs. Hudson, it would be so dull to do anything else." Sherlock tried to reason. Like he'd ever stop chasing criminals, even if Mrs. Hudson begged him.

"The only reason it's dangerous is because he makes it dangerous!" Greg accused. Mycroft had brought several bottles of hard liquor, and Greg was sipping his first glass. "If he'd slow his roll, he wouldn't get hurt. And that punch was from me. He keeps pickpocketing me!"

Sherlock smirked the *Who, me? Never!* smirk that sometimes makes John want to punch his flat mate. It was sexy, yet infuriating.

"Well, no point in dallying around," John said. "cake or presents first?"

"Cake," Sherlock said. "We all know that's what Mycroft is looking forward to."

Mycroft shot Sherlock a glare. "If I recall clearly, brother mine, you were the one packing away the sweets at Christmas."

"Hey, I don't blame him." Lestrade defended. "John's niece is a wonderful baker."

"She is." John said as he walked from the kitchen, candles lit on the cake. "While I was in Afghanistan she would send us what the other called 'Care Packages'. She'd send Pringles cans full of cookies and such. One year she sent a buddy of mine a cake. He drove a tank, ran over a landmine. He was fine. Cake was ruined though. Make your wish Sherlock!"

"John wishes are-"

"I don't care if they are childish, stupid, impractical, or any other big fancy word. Make a wish and blow out your candles!"

Sherlock looked at John, eyes sparkling. "Why should I make a wish when my dream come true is standing in front of me." And blew out the candles.

Mrs. Hudson clapped. John's face was now red, so red it went all the way to his roots. Sherlock was pulling out and disposing the candles, John still dumbfounded. Mrs. Hudson was cutting and passing out cake, John and Sherlock were still gazing at each other. John put the cake on the coffee table, taking Sherlock's face in his hands.

"You mean that?" John was breathless, fingers tangling in Sherlock's hair. John heard shuffling, and a door close. He couldn't be bothered with that at the moment.

"I hardly ever say something and not mean it John." Sherlock's words were light, barely above a whisper. It sent shivers down John's spine.

John brought their lips together briefly, lightly. Sherlock sighed. This was far from their first kiss, but John wanted to savor every moment like this. Sherlock pulled away, looking around the flat. The others were gone, all was quite. Sherlock grabbed John by his belt loops, pulling him towards their room. Sherlock sat on the edge, pulling John into his lap and bringing their lips together. Sherlock's brain was shutting down. John's kisses did things to Sherlock's brain, he couldn't even begin to think what sex would do to him.

"Sorry," John gasped as he pulled away, lips red. When had their kisses gotten so intense? "Say again? I missed that."

Sherlock groaned. "You have no idea what you do to me."

John rubbed himself against Sherlock, feeling the hardness there. John whined in the back of his throat. "Need to take the edge off first." John said through labored breaths. "Hands, ah, just hands."

Sherlock nodded, hands traveling under John's jumper. His hands were cold, making John jump and whither against him. Sherlock rubbed his hands along John's back and abdominal muscles, thrusting against John with broken moans and gasp. John's hands had left Sherlock's hair and was clumsily undoing the buttons, kissing as pale skin was shown. Sherlock always smelled like fresh rain, the soap he used, and his usual natural musk. John nipped don the middle of Sherlock's chest, leaving small red spots in his wake.

Sherlock felt like a heavy weight was pressing on his chest, making his breath come in hard shallow pants. "John, please!"

"Please what?" John asked, nibbling on the very prominent collar bone. Sherlock whined. "Say again?" John said with a tiny laugh.

"Please let me cum." Sherlock whined. Only then did John realize his hand was rubbing Sherlock through his trousers. John let out a sound close to a growl. John undid the fly of Sherlock's pants.

"Said you wanna come?" John asked, voice thick with arousal. John's pace was fast and ruthless, twisting with a light squeeze at the head, swiping his thumb over the head.

"John!" Sherlock gasped, crashing their lips together as he came filling and overflowing John's hand with semen. John kissed Sherlock through his orgasm, milking it for all it was worth. After several minuets, John pulled away, taking in the sight. Sherlock's lips were bruised slightly, cheeks and ears red, love bites on his collar bone and upper body. Sherlock's abdominal muscles were still having little spasms, which were covered in a nice layer of semen. John groaned, cock twitching in his clothes. John brought his dirty hand to him mouth and slowly licked it clean. It was slightly bitter, but John liked the taste. When His hand was clean, John stuck his hand in the cooling semen again and again, licking it clean, Sherlock's eyes watching intently. When John was done, Sherlock rolled them over, laying John down and quickly undoing the fly of John's jeans.

"Have I ever told you how much I love your arse in these jeans?" Sherlock asked, sliding down so his face was hovering over John penis, still in his pants as h breathed hot air on it. John bucked his hips and a small whine escaped his lips.

"Ahh~. N-no, had no idea." John managed after a moment. Sherlock rubbed his nose against John's still covered penis. "Damn cock tease!" John cried.

Sherlock pealed away John's pants, blowing on the impressive erection hidden in bright blue boxers. He poked his tongue out and licked from the base of John's penis to the head. John was trying his hardest to not shove himself into Sherlock's pretty little mouth. Sherlock took the head in his mouth, sucking lightly, tonguing the slit. John wasn't going to last long at all. Sherlock eased his way down on John, slowly trying to swallow him to the root. John twirled a piece of Sherlock's hair with one hand while the other was white knuckling the comforter he was sitting on.

"So close," John slurred, watching Sherlock with lust heavy eyes. Sherlock gave a particularly hard suck, and that was John's undoing. John's voice cracked when he yelled, the gentle hand in Sherlock's hair fisted, tugging on he curls in an attempt to pull Sherlock off him. He resisted, swallowing the blood hot semen. When John was done, limp and mindless, Sherlock pulled off. He tugged John's jeans off, then shed his own. Sherlock moved John to lay against the pillows, pulling the quilt from the bottom of the bed to cover them.

"Happy birthday love." John sighed, brushing his lips against Sherlock's.

"I love you." Sherlock muttered, closing his eyes and dropping off to sleep.

John's heart clenched. "I love you too." He said, following Sherlock to sleep.


End file.
